My Father's Daughter
by auswriteforyou
Summary: Mirabel was missing ten years of her memories but who really needs to remember how many crayons they ate in kindergarten or how to ride a bike? Although it might explain her newfound stalker, why the cops on the case are so involved and how she got the scar shaped like Shrek on the back of her knee when all she really wants is to pay off her student loans and lots of wine.
1. Excerpt

"I love you." The crisp air kissed her flushed skin, the wind practically knocking her over in its ferocity.

"You don't know me!" She argued, having to yell to be heard.

"That's where you're wrong Mira. I know everything about you, more than anyone else. That's why you met me here, because you feel it too." His meaty hands lunged for her and she took off, screaming as she went.

"Voight, alligators!" She felt a hand go around her neck, the cool press of metal to her forehead and sirens blared in the distance.

"Let her go Martin!" The gruff voice soothed her as much as she could be soothed with a gun pressed to her head. "You don't want to hurt her."

"Oh please, who are you to talk about hurting her when all you do is lie? Has he told you love? Who he is to you? Has he told you that he knows your background?"

"Mira, look at me. Don't listen to them. Remember what we discussed?" Ruzek stepped into her view as Voight and Martin continued to argue. "Mira. Tell me."

Settling her stance, she touched her throat and breathed through her nose, releasing it in a puff of smoke. She could feel Martin getting agitated. She had to do it now.

"Do me a favor, tell him I love him."

She dropped, dragging Martin with her as shots fired and her hip exploded in pain as her head connected with the pavement and unconsciousness embraced her like an old foe.


	2. Prologue

There's nothing like a nice dinner, steamy shower and episode of your favorite show to calm you after a long day.

And there is nothing like getting a call at 2 a.m. that you have to bail your brother out of jail to ruin it.

Mira hugged her jacket tight around her lithe frame as she slid through the heavy doors of the 21st Precinct. Cold chills swept in with her as she jogged the few steps to the front desk, only to be met with a stony-faced sergeant.

"Um, hi?" She questioned, garnering the woman's attention despite her barely there tone.

"How can I help you?" The woman didn't smile but her face was less stoic.

"Uh, my, I'm, brother?" Closing her eyes, she tried to gather her thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Are you Mira Jonte? Here for Lavon Jonte?" With a grateful smile, the girl nodded and followed the woman up the stairs. Although going through the gate was freaky enough, walking into a room of detectives was worse.

"Voight, this is Mira."

"Lavon's sister?"

"Yeah, I'm white." Wow, she really should think before speaking. Some of the men hid smiles in coughs while the female detective just grinned at Voight. "I am so sorry."

"Don't be." He stated, stepping closer to her. The board behind him grabbed her attention and she ignored his outstretched hand, stepping around him to finger a photo of a young girl who was beside a familiar photo.

"Why is my brother under suspect in a sexual assault and homicide charge?" Her voice didn't change pitch despite the tenseness in her shoulders.

"Follow me into my office please miss."

"Absolutely not, not 'til you tell me why my brother is on this board." There was something about the fold of her arms, the way she cocked out her hip, daring him with her stance to argue that reminded him of his late wife. It was a punch to the gut despite her never making eye contact. There was something about her that felt familiar.

"This is a conversation that would be better had in my office." The way she calculating him with hooded eyes, keeping them from meeting his as to play her hand was a trait he had long since possessed so he knew when her shoulder slumped that she was giving in. "Do you want someone else in there with us? Erin?"

The woman, Erin, stepped up but Mira was shaking her head. She didn't want her going in with them, the woman gave her a weird vibe. She surveyed the room, landing on the man in the back. "Him."

"Ruzek ?" When he stepped up, she nodded. "Okay then." The men stepped into Voight's office, Voight going behind his desk as 'Ruzek' held the door for her.

Stiffly, she followed the gray-haired man and the blond detectives lead. Voight's ice-blue eyes were piercing in the fluorescents as Ruzek shut the door behind her. Voight held out a hand, offering her a seat as Ruzek took the one closest to the door. This felt too much like she was being boxed in so she tugged her coat around her cold form, folding in on herself and continued to avoid making eye contact with him instead.

"Am I not here to retrieve Lavon?"

"Yes, if his alibi for three nights ago checks out." Ruzek's voice was lower pitch than she expected.

"He was at work, 4th and Main at Reggie's garage." Voight nodded and she figured he already knew that. "Can I see him? Please." She didn't care that she sounded desperate. She was.

"Do you know a Kyle Matins?" His gruff voice was supposed to be intimidating but it soothed her unexplainably.

"I did, yes. Is he dead like that girl in the photo out there?" Voight nodded. "I would say good but that might make me a suspect." Voight's smile made him handsome. Nicer.

"We have gotten that answer a lot but no one says why, they don't want to snitch."

"Is the they you're referring to my mixed-race brother who grew up in South Chicago with people beating up on him all his life because he did not belong and refused to join their gangs?"

Voight held his hands up as she tried not to apologize. She refused to let people insult Lavon, despite her fear of confrontation.

"I'm not saying he knows anything about the murders but he knows something about that guy." At Ruzek's words, she sat down, rubbing her cold hands along her face. She was wrestling with herself. She wasn't a snitch, years of being the 'little white girl' - despite the fact that she understood her whiteness offered more privilege, safety than had she been a woman of colour - was taught to her fro a young age by the men in this city. But this was Lavon. This was her brother.

"I don't care if you use my name but you keep his name and 'CI' out of your reports deal?" Voight didn't make deals especially when he didn't know what information he was going to get, but there was something about this mousy girl with light brown hair and eyes like concrete that said something else to him entirely. He agreed.

"Kyle Matins was a drug-dealing pimp, if someone killed him it was probably some john he ripped off or Gunner. His real name's Chase or something like that but I don't know his last name. If Kyle did something to get on his radar," She whistled lowly, "How about we just say Gunner's not very _understanding_ and he's crazy. If it is Gunner, go in hot because the guy has heavy artillery but that's all I know." Standing to her feet, she finally made eye contact with him and he was startled by the deep familiarity, and suddenly he knew exactly how he knew her. "Kyle isn't worth anything but I think that girl and his family deserve closure, so I hope you get whoever did this off the streets."

A knock on the door broke through the silence, Erin's head poking through. "Sorry. Voight, his alibi checks out. Got him on traffic camera's too."

"Thanks, and thank you Mira," Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a familiar card. "If you ever need anything, anything at all then you give me a call, okay?" Pulling the card from his fingers, careful not to touch him, she wrenched open the door and he understood it to mean that the conversation was over and she wanted her brother.

He let her walk out, Ruzek giving him a nod as he led her to stand by the information board. "Wait here." It was silent in the room bar the shuffle of papers and occasional conversation. Her eyes trailed the information on the board, stopping on a photo of a girl connected to Kyle that was her age in a tube top and mini-skirt.

"Who's this?" Ruzek startled at her voice, not expecting her to speak even as quietly as she had.

"Oh, uh, Kyle's ex. I think." Accepting the file folder from an older guy with a beanie pulled low on his head, falling off on one side, Ruzek read through the inofrmation. "Yeah, a Melanie Nars, goes by Candy." She simple hummed under her breath, contemplating something when a voice broke through the room.

"Bell."

Turning, she met her brother's chest and he squeezed her in a hug. "What did they ask you?" He was huge at six-foot-two and her five foot five frame barely met his pecs but he was familiar, comforting as she tilted her head to look into his eyes.

"Nothing, I was called to get you Von. Are you okay?" He pulled away, holding her by the shoulders as he checked her over. Glaring at Voight over his shoulder, he grabbed her by the hand to drag her out. She followed him willingly, halting quickly when something clicked.

"Ruzek," Turning at the sound of his name, he raised an eyebrow at her.

"When I knew her, she was Nina so you might want to look into that." He looked confused for a moment before nodding, opening the marker to write it on the board followed by a question mark as Lavon started tugging at her.

"Mira," Lavon hissed, voice lowering an octave, "stop talking and let's go."

"Yes brother." Giving the intelligence unit a shy smile and a half-assed wave, she let herself be tucked under her brothers arm and led to the stairs as she safely slid Voight's card in her pocket.

Braving the cold, she ignored the desk sergeant and braced herself for the cold and how Lavon was going to lay into her when they got in the car.

"What were you thinking Mira? Were you thinking at _all_? The little white girl and mixed raced boy rolling on these players to the cops? Tattling'?" His hazel eyes were angry in the harsh streetlights, daring her to argue and she opted for starting the car before dignifying him with a response.

"If it's you or them Von, I will always choose you." There was a long pause in which his hand found her shaking fingers. He knew how much it took for her to step foot in that building and how much more it took to actually converse with a cop. There was a long pause where he knew she was trying to find a phrase her sentence without stuttering in the way she usually did, in the way she had since she was 12.

"What do you think of Voight?

"I think I saw you slide his card in your pocket and that if you are ever in trouble, that he should be your first call."

At the precinct, Erin was bagging the photo of 'Candy' that Mira had touched at Voight's insistence as he prowled around the chair in front of his desk like a cat.

"Guys," Jay Halstead pulled their attention, blue eyes as tired as his tousled hair was mussed. "Mira's lead checks out. At some point Candy was Nina. Nina Roe, who's a convicted felon for attempted assault, robbery, possession and she had the same caliber gun registered to her as the one that killed both Kyle and that girl. She was out on bail and up and disappeared." He explained, pinning her mugshot to the board.

"So what?" Atwater sat up, biceps folded over his toned chest. He roved his dark brown, inset eyes over the photos for a moment before giving his theory. "Kyle paid her bail, told her to hide out then he moved on and she got angry enough to pop both him and his hooker, who was also sexually assaulted?"

"Or," Voight stepped out of his office, folder in hand, "She is working with someone else. Word from my C.I.'s that she's shacked up with Mira's other lead. Some guy named Gunner, Mira thinks his first name is Chase or something close to it. So here's the deal, we go for Candy with all this evidence and put her away for the murders, try to get her to roll, or we use her to lure out this player and clean sweep the whole operation."

"Are you asking us?" Erin clutched the evidence bag in surprise, confusion in her bright green eyes. Voight nodded slowly. He allowed his eyes to rove over his team, suss them out for a moment before he responded - although he already knew their answer.

"Gunner isn't some big fish, he's the biggest right now and we are putting ourselves in the sights of this entire cities underground assholes if we do this. I need to know you're all in. If you want to walk out that door, show up to work tomorrow then I'll give you a different case, no hard feelings." No one moved an inch. "Alright then, Jay and Erin pay a visit to Miss Nars. Ruzek and Al, I want you finding me Gunner's real name and a reason to pull this guy in - I don't care if it's an unpaid speeding ticket. Antonio, you and Atwater hit the streets and dig up anything you can." They were quick to recognize the dismissal for what it was, moving onto their respective tasks.

"Hank," He turned to face Erin, "what do you want me to do with this?" He pulled the evidence bag from her small hands, hoping there was at least a fingerprint he could use.

"I will handle it."

"Hank."

"We can talk later, work Erin." The kiss he placed on her messy brown was more troublesome than what he was saying. As he disappeared through his office door, she shared a look with Jay over the desks. However, she couldn't think about it too much right now because there was work to be done. Grabbing her coat, she pocketed her concerns and followed her partner.

They were almost to the stairs when they heard Voight's voice loud enough to think he was speaking to them.

"I need you to run a fingerprint on a missing person's case from 2000. Yeah, I have the file. I have a strand of hair for a DNA sample to if you wouldn't mind running a paternity test too." There was a long pause where all Jay and Lindsay could do was stare at each other. Jay's mouth forming the words _what the fuck_ over and over. Erin shrugged, perking up when he started talking to the person once more, all the colour draining from her face as she heard what he had to say.

"Yeah. Okay. Case number 10928473874. Victim name, Drew Voight."

 **This should be the only author's note on this story but I'm me so probably not lol**  
 **First things first, I own nothing but my OC's please don't arrest me.**  
 **Next, this is a work of fiction in which I will try to keep everyone to character but when you throw in someone new, it changes them a little but I won't do too much.**  
 **Also, Linstead and Burzek are canon in this because I'm trash.**  
 **And the first chapter is going to be three years later, it does mention it. In this prologue, Mira is 18 and she is 21 in ch. 1. There are a lot of reasons for this that will be explained as we go along.**  
 **Okay, I think that's it besides this story being a slowburn, like really slow.**  
 **I have been working on this story for a long while and I am really nervous about sharing it with you guys but I hope you like it.**  
 **Thank you for reading and I will attempt to not do anymore author notes! Love always, Dria.**


	3. Chapter One: Little One

Opaque grey eyes stared at her through the mirrors' grime, shaky hands smoothing stringy, matted brown hair. Her pink dress was too big, she kept having to pull at the straps to keep it from slipping off her shoulders. She had told them it was too big but they, he, wanted her to look good for their friends. They should have put her in red not bubblegum pink if they wanted her to look less like a nine year old girl and more like the teenager she was being passed off as.

"малютка, are you ready?" She could only make out his deep brown eyes from the dark corner he stood in but he was friendly, she could feel it. They only called her little one when they were nice. She opened her mouth to respond but the only sound that exited her cupid's bow lips was the blare of a siren.

Her body recognized where she was before her mind did, body in an upright position as she pulled the covers to her chest and tried to calm her racing heart. The mauve walls, the brown bedsheets and lilac duvet were tale tale signs of her bedroom but the fear coursing through her was still trying to seize her. The sirens whizzed by her windows, lights spinning through her room before trailing off as they had since she had moved in a few months ago. She was still adjusting to living so close to the 21st district.

"Jeez," She sighed as she rooted around her nightstand for her might-be-dreams-might-be-memories journal, pulling it and he favourite pen from it's spot and jotting down a few words that she could flesh out when she wasn't so exhausted. A small mewl broke through her focus, her notebook being abandoned for the small ball of fur that lunged into her lap.

"Oh hi little-" Cutting herself off, a flash of her dream floated through her mind as she decided that she needed a new nickname for the small black and grey cat - actually she just needed to name the cat she received as a gift two days ago. "Did you sleep well? Hmm?" The kitten nudged her hand, purring loudly as she closed her ice blue eyes.

"I am taking that as a yes." Giggling, she allowed herself a long moment to bask in the early morning sun filtering through her window, how warm she was in her covers and the feel of the kitten's fur. The weird dream-memories she had been having really messed with her sleep schedule - and her sanity. It was nice to have a moment to herself.

My baby don't mess around, she -

"What do you want?"

"Morning to you too, sunshine."

"Morning, hi, what do you want?" The man on the other side of the call could practically see her widened eyes, scrunched nose and pursed lips as she tried to figure out why he was calling her at 7 a.m.

"Were you asleep?"

"No, kind of, why?" He laughed, knowing she wasn't going to let it go til he told her. She was predictable in a lot of ways, mostly in her ability to be curious of literally everything. She didn't mind being predictable in the slightest; to her, predictability was dependability.

"I have to be at work for the deposition briefing but I was calling to make sure we were still on for dinner tonight but now I'm not so sure." He teased, her eyes rolling as she looked at the calendar on her wall. It was their anniversary tomorrow but seeing as their anniversary was on a Friday, they didn't want to deal with a crowded restaurant so they were celebrating tonight with a nice dinner and spending tomorrow curled up in bed. Of course they were still on for dinner.

"Dyl, do you really have to ask?" She cursed as she stepped out of bed onto her cold hardwood floors, following them to the cold tile bathroom floor. "Of course we are. You, me, Montiago's at 7?" Her heater was pumping as hard as it could but it wasn't doing much to keep out the bitter Chicago chill. She had been perfectly content in her bed but she needed to get ready for work, feed the cat and herself, adult really.

"Yep, can I expect you there at 7:30?"

"I am not always late!" She argued, regretting her decision to wear a sports bra and leggings to bed. "I can be there at 7, promise." She was met with a heart laugh, she could practically see his dimples popping.

"I am only teasing you babe." She could hear someone calling his name as she pulled out her toothbrush from the medicine cabinet, wincing at her appearance in the mirror. It was going to take a lot to fix this. "Hey, I have to go do some work so I can actually afford this dinner but I'll see you in a bit. I love you."

"Yeah, yeah, I love you more." Clicking out of the call, she smiled at her ghastly appearance as she slid the phone into the speaker dock. Dylan Mann was the definition of 'a catch'. He was 25 with bronze skin, jet black hair and piercing green eyes. Not to mention the muscular build, slight stubble and thick rimmed glasses that perched on his nose.

He was an attorney in one of the biggest law firms in Chicago, spending his nights at his private office in the slums of Chicago helping those who couldn't help themselves. He had been raised in the affluent Canaryville but his parents had raised him right, teaching him that money and respect were earned through hardwork. He was smart (4.0 GPA and graduated magna cum laude), tall (like 6' 5" tall), funny (aka sends her memes with the captions 'is this you' or 'same') and somehow head over heels for the girl from the slums he works in - please, why can't he have one flaw? - and who can't remember the first ten years of her life bar weird dream-memory things that no one can confirm.

She was lucky, she knew that.

Turning the shower handle to as hot as it would go, she stripped off her clothes and groaned as it got even colder. Hand brushing the scar she'd had on her right hip that spanned up her side to her ribs that she had, had for as long as she could remember, she sighed to herself. She had no idea what it was from, hopefully some dumb childhood incident that had given her a bad enough concussion to cause memory loss. She didn't know if she could handle it being anything else.

A she stepped into the shower, a small piece of her told her something was off. That something felt out of place. She shouldn't have shrugged it off because if she had just glanced up, she would have noticed the blinds halfway up on the small bathroom window. And perhaps she would have noticed the man peering through it.

It had been three years, long and painstaking as they tried to hunt down this guy. Gunner was evasive, smart, calculated and he went underground whenever they got close enough to grab him. It was pissing him off but he had made a mistake, popped up in a recent case and they had the best lead they'd had since Mirabel gave them his street name.

"Listen, you either roll on your good buddy Gunner or go to jail for the murder of his girlfriend Candy and five other victims that we can tie to your group, Hall." Leaning into the man's face, Voight let a smile fall on his lips as he spoke. "One of which was in New York, where they offer the death penalty. Your choice."

"I don't know nothing about them murders or his operation, aight? All I got is a name. Chase Olat, some white boy from the rich sida town. But I ain't ever met him, swear."

"Chase Olat, 27 and just like Hall said he's a rich boy from an affluent family that fell into the wrong crowd. He doesn't have a record but his 'friends' have mile long ones that I assume they took for him." Kim Burgess was the newest member of the Intelligence unit, already proving herself and pushing through any gender and personal grudges. "He doesn't have an address on file but a bunch of his friends have ones on the same block and I figure the best way to keep track of his crew is to live with them."

"Gear up, we bringing him in."


End file.
